


A Kiss and a Good Scotch

by roseforthethorns, xphil98197



Category: 00Q - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Trans, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:18:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphil98197/pseuds/xphil98197
Summary: James has to rescue the Quartermaster after he's kidnapped. But there's more to him than what appears on the surface.





	

Q swore a blue streak as light filtered through his bruised eye lids. Never much of a fighter, he was even less so after three days straight on comms. The last thing he remembered was the man who had tried to grab his messenger bag hitting him, glasses crunching against his eyes. There was loud clang outside the door to his room, and two large thugs walked in, followed by a third man. The first two hoisted Q up and held him at standing height, while the man inspected him. "Hmmmm, they won't like the bruising. And my source said he wears glasses. Where are they?" 

The thugs shifted slightly. "Broken," one of them said. "When he struggled."

 The other man tutted and returned his gaze to Q. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped now. Though if he's unable to work, it'll come off your hand."

Q blinked at them, everything blurry. "I don't... I can't see without them," a slight exaggeration but better they think that. "And I need something for my head. I get bad migraines without my glasses."

The man in charge tsked and led the way out of the room with the thugs dragging Q between them.

"You're lucky we have your things along with, I believe, some of your personal effects."

"And my wrist braces?" Q's fingers ached after three days on comms during winter.

The man upended Q's bag into the table. "Whatever's in that is what we have."

The thugs shoved Q into a seat at the table and stood right behind him.

"I can't do anything without my glasses, I'm sorry," Q fumbled through the pile. "And my braces aren't in here either, I left them on the desk at work. I have spares at home. And I still don't understand... What exactly is it that you want anyway?"

"We'll have them brought." The thugs bound Q to the chair while the other man set up a computer in front of Q. "I want access to MI6 personnel files. Specifically, those in the double-oh program."

"Those aren't online," Q shook his head. "Those are on paper, only known to M. Those sort of things are kept under lock and key, and I have no access. I only have need to know information to run missions."

"All of our intelligence points otherwise, and I won't tolerate backtalk on the subject." He nodded to the thugs, one of whom backhanded Q across the face.

"You're the Quartermaster. You know the system inside and out. You will get me what I want."

"But it's not there," Q shook his head. "I can't produce what doesn't exist. I can show you mission reports, travel receipts, things of that nature," he fumbled through the things on the desk, blind without his glasses, and found the bottle of migraine meds.

"I'm sure you have plenty of records for which agents get your tech then. We can start there."

"I... I really can't see..." Q gave up fumbling with the bottle of medicine, aching hands unable to open it.

"I've had about enough of your stalling."

 James slipped into a cupboard on the first floor, his gun cocked and silenced as he scanned the area. Q's tracker told him the boffin was here, somewhere, and he was going to find him.  

"I'm really not..." Q swallowed loudly. "Can I have a bin or something?"

The man rolled his eyes but nodded, and the thugs had to hold it while Q vomited loudly into it. 

It was Q's retching that tipped James off. He slunk upstairs and down the corridor until he stood outside a door that was slightly ajar.

Q leaned weakly on the table, head in his hands. He was still a pale color, hands shaky as he spit in the bin.

"Pathetic," the man spat. "Weak and pathetic. Should have known some little tranny wouldn't have really been Quartermaster."

James peered around the door and took careful aim. In seconds the thugs and the man were dead. He walked into the room, took something from his pocket, and fitted a pair of glasses onto Q's face. "That should help."

"Thank you," Q rubbed his temples. "I'm sorry you had to come and rescue me," he added softly.

"It was a minor inconvenience. But not anything I couldn't handle. Besides. I'm rubbish without you in my ear." James grinned and helped Q up. "Can you stand? Or do you need me to carry you?" 

"I'm alright..." Q swayed as he stood, trying to hold the sides of his torn shirt together. "I feel ridiculous, actually... Can't believe they were able to get me... and clock me as a female. Shit. I suppose you'll enjoy telling this story at work tomorrow," he added bitterly.

"I... I wasn't going to. It's your business what your life is, not mine. And I wasn't offering to carry you because I think you're a damsel. If you're concussed, you might not be steady on your feet." James caught Q's arm as the Quartermaster wavered. "Now, I'm curious, yes, but I'm not judging."

"Ask away," Q said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm being rude. Can you open my pill bottle for me?"

James did, shaking out a few pills that Q then dry swallowed. "How about you come back to my place? If you're concussed you shouldn't be alone overnight. I could get takeaway or something." 

"I..." Q blushed, his cheeks hot. "I'm not in the mood for sex, if you're taking the piss. It's just a migraine from the stress and knocks on the head, and some nasty black eyes," he finally said quietly, rubbing his aching temples. "Not sure I can handle food yet either." 

"Jesus Q, you're hurt. I'm not trying to take advantage. I don't want to rescue you only to have you choke on your own vomit."

Q risked a glance at him. "I'm sorry. I'm making an ass of myself. I haven't slept in three days and everything..." He started to sway again.

James caught him, supporting the boffin. "Okay, you're coming back to mine. And I'm carrying you back to the car." He gently hefted Q up into his arms and carried him out of the building. "Do you need to run by your flat? Can I have things brought? What do you need, Q?"

"I'm alright, can't type without my wrist braces... But I need sleep more," Q admitted. "I feel ridiculous."

"Tell you what," James said as he bundled Q into the Aston. "I'll take you to yours, help you pack a bag, grab food, and bring you to mine. You can shower, I'll keep an eye on you, and if your head isn't better in the morning then I get to make you go to Medical."

"I'm off the next three days, Mallory's orders, even before I was abducted," Q winced. "Can you kip on my sofa, if I pay for food? My cats have already been alone too long."

"Only if I'm allowed to bring alcohol into your flat." James got behind the wheel and peeled out of the car park. "And forget paying for food. It's on me. What do you want?"

"Just some plain rice until the pain meds kick in," Q whispered, head against the cool window glass. "You can bring whatever you like, as long as you're up to the task of making sure I'm still breathing. A couple of shots of scotch should help me chase away the worst of this."

James called in an order for Chinese, ordering plenty for when Q was feeling better as well. He picked up the food, and followed Q's directions to the flat, parking outside.

Q stumbled his way out of the car and held onto the door for balance as he swallowed away the spinning. He managed to unlock the door, but only made it as far as the sofa before collapsing with a groan.

He kicked off his shoes and took off his button down to examine the worst of the injuries. His undershirt had dried blood from the blows to the face and nose, and there were angry purple bruises around his wrists.

James put everything down in the kitchen before returning to Q's side. "You need a bath. And I can bandage those for you." He winced in sympathy at the bruises. "They clocked you pretty good. There's a bump on your head." He looked at Q, uncertain and not liking that he didn't know what to do. "What can I help with?"

"I..." Q swallowed. "I don't think I can get my binder off, they got my ribs with their boots," he lifted the back of his undershirt to show James the footprint shaped bruise on his side. He bit back a moan at the pain that simple movement caused and closed his eyes.

"Talk me through it, Q," James said. "And where's your first aid kit? And you need a shower too. Or a bath." 

Q nodded and turned his back on James. "It's like a skin tight tank top, it peels up from the bottom," he whispered, resigned. "I might need to wrap my ribs... But not my chest? I'm not sure. It hurts to take a deep breath, it's hard to tell. I haven't been in pain like this since..." He trailed off and covered his face with his hands.

Slowly, hesitantly, James placed his hand on Q's shoulder. He didn't say anything; he wasn't sure there was anything he _could_ say. Q would talk when he was ready, and James would wait. He was good at waiting.

"Let's get this over with,"  Q said after a moment.

Moving slowly, James helped pull off Q's binder. Once he got it over the boffin's head, he handed it to Q who had his arms covering his chest. James looked at the bruises on Q's sides. There were a few boot prints; and he definitely had bruises ribs. "I'll need to wrap those," he murmured.

"I know... It's happened before," Q said softly. "I don't think I'll be taking the stairs anytime soon." 

"These injuries? From..." James thought for a moment. "You were bullied?"

"Yes... In a matter of speaking, when I started Uni. I went to an LGBT student dance, and the guy I left with took offense to the fact I wasn't genetically male," Q shivered.

"I need to examine all the bruising. And I need to clean everything. But not until you're bathed. Come on."

Q nodded and hissed as he stood. "I'm sorry to put you through all this."

"Stop apologizing. I'm not judging you," James said gruffly as he helped Q through to the boffin's bathroom (with Q's directing). "Shower or bath?"

"Shower, I think," Q said. "I'm not sure I can get up and down. There's some excedrin in the medicine cabinet if you can hand me three?"

James started the water and retrieved the pills. "You're still not steady on your feet. Let me help."

"I... I hate this," Q said fiercely. "Why do I look like an easy victim? Even knowing martial arts... it's no help when there's four of them and one of me, and I’m so exhausted I can’t stand. I was laid up for weeks last time I broke my ribs, I can't afford it this time."

"Q, you're the Quartermaster of MI6. They didn't attack you for gender or anything like that. They knew your position and took you because of what you can do. And I don't see you as a victim, so you can cut that out. I'm trying to help because... because I was concerned. Who else will I banter with on missions?"

"Someone who can take care of themself?" Q said bitterly, dry swallowing the pills. "I just have enough to deal with, I have nine of you to bring home, James. I don't need to add broken ribs to the equation." 

"I'm sure R can handle it while you're recuperating. And I found you because of your backup tracking systems that you have on you. You hadn't been gone too long. And I think they're bruised, not broken. You can still breathe and you don't have a punctured lung. That's a good indication." James scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry... I'm not good at this, being vulnerable in front of someone," Q admitted. "It makes me prickly."

"I'm not going to force myself on you, if that's what you're worried about." James perched on the edge of the tub and looked away. "You can't stand on your own right now. And I'm not letting you crack your head open on the tub."

"No... I mean, unfortunately I'm aware that you could snap me in two if you wanted," Q swallowed. "I just... I'm the Quartermaster. I'm expected to keep it together. And this makes me feel about three inches tall, and vulnerable, and... I hate it."

Something in James softened slightly. "I'm not going to judge. And... and we all need help," he said quickly, though he hated admitting it about himself.

Q nodded and stripped off his pants to step into the shower. James waited, averting his eyes to afford Q what privacy he could.

"Grocery shopping and laundry were on my to do list tomorrow. Yow," Q winced as he wiped the dried blood off his face. "I need a good story to tell at work to explain this." 

"You're going to have to file a report. Mallory sent me to retrieve you when he realized what happened." James nodded and pulled towels off the racks and found the first aid kit.

"I know," Q emerged and wrapped himself in an oversized towel. "I..." He sat on the toilet with a hiss. "Just don't like needing to be rescued."

James popped the cap off the arnica cream and gently began rubbing it into Q's bruises. "It was nice to return the favor since you've saved my arse on multiple occasions. But it's okay if people save you on occasion. You can't be strong all the time."

"Well it's nice to know someone notices," Q melted under his hands. "Thank you. That helps a lot. I'm going to curl up on the couch, if you'll excuse me being a bad host," he wandered off to the living room. "It figures the first time a man brings me home it's to save me and not shag me. Ah well."

"You know, I may be older but I can still hear you." James followed Q into the sitting room. "I'm not about to shag you with bruised ribs, and I'm actually attempting to be a gentleman here."

"Sorry- I was just ranting at the cats," Q blushed a bright shade of red. "Just hating the irony."

James fixed himself a large scotch, some rice for Q, and some general's chicken for himself. "Eat a little. And you can't sleep yet. I have to make sure you're not badly concussed." 

"How about some scotch?" Q asked hopefully. "Works brilliantly on a migraine." 

"Only if you eat some rice." But James fetched a second glass and poured a smaller amount of scotch for Q.

Q downed the scotch in one go, and stared longingly at the bottle. "It's been languishing since Christmas, poor beauty," he picked at the container of rice with a spoon, a dejected expression on his face. "Rice doesn't taste as good without chopsticks." 

James felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. "Think you can handle them? I won't end up with one in my eye or anything for making you feel like a victim?" He grinned at Q and saw a little spark of amusement in the boffin's eyes.

"It's not that..." Q admitted. "When my wrists hurt, I can't use them. But a few more shots of scotch, I'll either feel no pain enough to try them, or hit on you. Want to try?" He gave James a wicked smirk.

"All right, but I can easily drink you under the table."

Q eyed the bottle of Glenfiddich mocking them on the table. "Let's go to the off license before it closes. This one is mine."

"You'll need a coat. And shoes." James eyed Q sitting there in a blanket and loose pyjamas. "You don't even have to leave the car, but I'm not leaving you here."

"If you were trying to be the reasonable one, you'd be talking me out of the scotch," Q laughed, heading off to find a shirt. "Ahhh... A buzz makes everything better."

"You do realize that MI6's most notorious drinker is the one taking care of you, right?" James called after him. He pulled his own coat back on and found he was smiling a little himself. Q was far more interesting than he'd ever given the man credit for, and he'd met enough people in his time that Q's preferences didn't phase him much. He'll admit he was surprised at the discovery.

"Hmph... You have no idea what I'm made of outside work," Q emerged from the bedroom sporting a skin tight t shirt that said ' _Are you coming or going? Or coming and then going? Or coming and staying?_ ' "You a Queer as Folk fan at all?"

"Phrasing," James murmured with a grin as he read Q's shirt. "To answer your shirt, I would rather hope the latter of the three. To your question, only the Russel T. Davies version. I didn't care for the American remake of it."

"Ah what a pity... I love Aidan Gillen as Stuart. But Brian Kinney? Oh lord..." Q winked and grabbed his wallet to fan himself. "You don't know what you're missing. And Gail Harold drinks Earl Grey in real life."

"I suppose you'll have to show me then. Especially if they're that gorgeous. Though not half as handsome as you I'd wager."

"Stop," Q ducked out the door. "Don't encourage my pathetic flirting."

"Encourage _your_ flirting? And it isn't pathetic. I believe I chose to flirt back."

"Come along then, Prince Charming," Q teased. "More scotch and maybe some good cider for later."

James walked downstairs with Q and got back into the car. "Off we go then."

"There better be crisps too," Q climbed into the Aston Martin. "I like grease with my alcohol. You'll have to let me drive her on the motorway sometime," he sprawled in the leather seat.

"Should we grab burgers and chips too? Go full grease?" He peeled out of the parking spot and sped back towards the shops.

"Hmmm... Chinese always is better the second day. Why not?" Q smiled. "Thank you, for making me feel better."

"Consider it taken care of. And you're welcome."

"Can I have curry sauce and malt vinegar with my chips?" Q asked hopefully.

"Whatever you would like, Q."

"That's a danger thing to tell me when chips and scotch are involved," Q smiled.

"You are definitely more interesting than I have you credit for, Q."

"Call me Aiden?" Q asked with a smile. "I do occasionally leave work and disassociate. And there's alcohol involved, enough with the formalities."

"All right then. Aiden. That's a nice name."

"Well I did get to choose," Q made a face. "I was Emily... Ugh. I like this far better. I love Brother Aiden in the movie "The Book of Kells." And I think it works."

"I'll admit I was drunk when I saw that. But what I remember was really interesting," Bond replied. "And the name suits you." 

"Oh, then I'll have to subject you to a repeat when you're not trying to outdrink me," Q grinned and waved hello to the owner of the chip shop. "Usual please, Wes. And whatever my friend is having."

James chuckled and ordered chips with everything on them. "But I'm paying. No matter what Aiden says."

"He's politer than Eve," Wes grinned. "I've never heard her offer to pay."

"Oh, but she pays for drinks," Q grinned. "I get the far better deal."

"Hey, that is the better deal. Guess that means you're buying the scotch," James teased.

"Well I don't know..." Q gave him a considering look. "I suppose it depends where you're sleeping tonight..." He ducked into the loo with a wink. 

"Look, I know it's none of my business," Wes said quietly. "But is he alright? He's a good guy, but he looks like shit tonight."

"He's had a rough day. And I know he's a good guy. We work together actually."

"Ah, I won't worry so much then," Wes nodded. "Him and all his top secret shite."

"Very private person. But then he started flirting with me. So of course I'm going to take him for chips and drinks."

"Just be good to him," Wes said as Aiden emerged from the loo. "Oy, I'm giving your date the shovel speech."

James sighed and looked put upon. "I've sworn to not hurt you." 

"Quit scaring him off, Wes," Aiden smiled fondly. "It's such a waste that you insist on being straight."

That made James chuckle. "I take it he's very flirty then?"

"Nah, I've only ever had him bring Eve," Wes chuckled.

"He means you, you arse," Aiden laughed.

"Well hey... If even a gay guy thinks I'm hot, work it for all it's worth," Wes laughed.

"It better only be Aiden you're flirting with," a woman with a bun of black hair and red lipstick emerged from the kitchen. "Hi Aiden. Who's the hottie?"

"Hi Ginger, this is James, my workmate," Aiden squeezed her. "James, this is Wes's wife Ginger."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," James said, holding out a hand for her to shake. Ginger gave him the once over and then hugged him. She had quite a bit of strength in her arms. 

"You don't bring enough gorgeous men in here, Aiden."

"I've never brought a man in here," Aiden blushed. "Quit scaring him off." 

"Don't worry, Aiden. They won't scare me off. We would like those chips though. I have to make sure this one gets some rest."

"And scotch!" Aiden laughed as Ginger handed over their bag.

"Poker night Monday if you're free, bring your hottie," Ginger winked.

James smirked at them. "He doesn't want to bring me. I would fleece all of you out of everything you're worth." James paid for the chips and gently touched Q's arm. "Ready, Aiden?"

"Yes, Sir," Aiden kissed his cheek and flushed.

James ushered him gently from the shop and back into the car. "Aiden, are you really flirting with me?"

"Should I not?" Aiden sat back in his seat, a guilty expression on his face.

"That's not what I said." James sighed. "Q-Aiden... I don't want you to flirt with me just because I happened to help rescue you. And if it isn't just that, then that's all right. I do fancy you, and I would very much like to take you to bed, but you also need food and rest tonight. I would like to get to know you better, I think."

"Food, rest and alcohol tonight, and how about I make you dinner another night?" Aiden smiled. "I'd... Like that." 

"It's a date." James drove them to the off-license and bought a very nice bottle of scotch, again refusing to let Q pay.  

"You don't have to buy my affection, I swear," Aiden stared at the bottle. 

"It's my treat, Aiden. And you deserve to be showered with gifts. And treated well. Anyone who says otherwise, I can shoot for you."

"I... I don't need gifts," Aiden protested. "You being a gentleman is a treat. Are you sure... You don't mind though?"

"If I minded or didn't want to, then I wouldn't, Aiden." James drove them back to Q's flat and carried the food and alcohol up the stairs. "Think your cats will come out to greet me this time? Now that you're not quite so run down?"

"Treats are in the cupboard above the stove," Aiden retrieved the bag and shook it. Two set softly ears appeared around the corner of the kitchen, one marmalade and one black. "Arthur is the marmalade girl with the bad eye, and Merlin is the black one with the broken tail. Try feeding them?"

Moving slowly with reflexes born from years of training and spy work, James crouched and offered his hand, the treats laying on his palm. Merlin approached first, sniffing and then eating a few. Arthur followed, gently biting James's thumb before she was willing to eat.

"They're a bit shy, this is very outgoing for them," Aiden petted each. "Humans have been awful to them. A homeless man stopped teenagers from poking Arthur in the eye with a stick, and Merlin was swung around by the tail when he was a baby. A bit prickly, but they just needed some extra love."

"You're a better man than I. I've not had a pet since my dog when I was a kid. Had to leave him behind when I went to live with relatives..."

"Well... I need TLC too, who am I to judge?" Aiden smiled. 

"Speaking of, let's open that scotch."

"Sounds good," Aiden spoke with a mouth still full of hot Chip. "Yow."

"Do be careful with your kit," James teased as he brought over his own food and the scotch, filling two glasses.

"Hush," Aiden grinned, biting into another chip. "Ah, this is perfect," he downed another two shots."

"Woah, slow down there." James drank his and filled them again. "You're drinking faster than I can pour and that's saying something." 

"Well... I only buy what I like to drink," Aiden laughed, cheeks flushed. "Can I...?"

"Can you what, Aiden?" James asked, raising an eyebrow, amused.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Are you sure?" James asked softly. The boffin was certainly tipsy, and he didn't want Aiden to regret it later, even if he himself wanted it very much... and had for some time.

"Clothes will stay on," Aiden nodded. "I just really want to."

James set his food and drink down. "All right." 

Aiden scooted closer to him on the sofa, and put a tentative hand on James's chest, before leaning in to peck his cheek. He took his time, stopping to kiss the simple at the corner of James's mouth, before finally giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. James held himself still. He didn't want to spook Aiden, and the kiss was so lovely and innocent; it was a huge difference from the kisses he normally had.

"It does work better if you kiss back," Aiden teased as he leaned back.

James chased his lips and pulled Aiden close. He kept his touch firm and gentle as he nibbled Aiden's lip and teased a soft moan from him. "Didn't want to spook you. You remind me of a cat."

Aiden giggled and leaned against him. "Eve accuses me of that," he laughed.

"Of being a cat? And what does she say?" James wrapped his arm around Aiden's shoulders. He tried to ignore the fact that they felt perfect together.

"Mostly that I sneak up on her... I've yet to leave her dead bugs on her pillow," Aiden grinned mischievously. "I like you holding me."

"Yes, don't leave bugs or mice on my pillow either," James chuckled. "And... I rather like holding you."

"Nothing of the sort," Aiden wormed his way into sitting on James's lap and laid his head on James's shoulder.

"How are your ribs?" James asked softly.

"A little sore, I'm being careful," Aiden assured him. "I remember this pain, how not to move."

"From... you've been beat up before like this?"

"Yes," Aiden winced. "I... It wasn't something I wanted to experience again."

James ran a hand through Aiden's hair and kissed the top of his head. "At least nothing broke this time, eh?" 

"Thank goodness for that, I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks last time," Aiden sighed and relaxed against him. "Not an experience worth repeating, especially when you have a cast and get hives from the pain medication."

"How long have you known you were male?"

"When I was in primary school..." Aiden gave him a sad smile. "My best friend's mom had to explain to me I couldn't go to the tenth birthday sleepover party that I'd helped him plan. She was gentle about it, told me that it wasn't me, it was that some people were narrow minded. 

"Is it rude to ask why you haven't transitioned?" He winced when he said the words; the sounded worse out of his mouth. "More in a your personal preference kind of way? A get to know you way?"

"I... I don't see any use in having a penis that doesn't work and has no sensation. The hormones at least have made me more sensitive," Aiden said softly. "And top surgery... well I couldn't afford it before I became Quartermaster, and I haven't had the time to take off work since. This is the most downtime I've had, three days, since I started at Six."

"It wouldn't work?" James's eyes widened in shock. "And I'm sure Mallory would let you take medical leave for the rest if it were something you wanted."

"No... you can use a pump, or get an implant you can manually manipulate... but not really functional," Aiden shrugged. "At some point I'll have the time to research how to create one that's functional, and then I'll arrange both the surgeries at once. But for now, I'm not a fan of hospitals, and I despise doctors who feel like they have the right to pass judgement on how I live my life."

James growled softly. "None of them have the right to do that." He might not understand everything about Q or about being Trans, but he didn't tell people how to love and they sure as shit couldn't tell him. 

"You'd be surprised," Aiden shrugged. "Its one of the things about the world that you take for granted being born male, James. People take your word for things. I'm used to being questioned and challenged."

James was silent for several minutes. He held Aiden and thought about what he'd said.

Aiden pressed a kiss to his throat and relaxed back against him. "Its not all that ordinary, who I am, James. I've had a lot of time to think about these things."

"I do know that you need sleep. And that I'm staying to make sure you're all right... if you're all right with that."

"That would be fine," Aiden said. "Do you want to sleep here, or come to bed with me? Just to sleep, I mean."

"Which do you want?"

"I would enjoy if you came and slept with me," Aiden smiled. "I'm a bit of an octopus cuddler, according to Eve."

"Pyjamas then. I'll sleep in my pants."

"I have an extra pair if you want?" Aiden offered, standing. "Come on," he held out his hand to James. "Let's just put away the food."

"In my size? No offense Q, but I'm a bit broader than you are, boffin."

"Oh... that's true," Aiden laughed. "Eve fits in my trousers. You bringing the scotch, or are you done?"

James picked up the bottle and glasses, following Q as he put the food away and then led the way into the bedroom. 

"I think I'm probably done for the night, unless you want me to climb you like a tree," Aiden teased, climbing into bed. "Although a few more aspirin wouldn't be amiss."

James fetched the pills and brought them back. "As much as I would enjoy that, not when your ribs are bruised."

"Another night, I did promise you dinner first," Aiden snuggled under the duvet, and the two cats circled over to his side of the bed to watch James.

Bond stripped to his skivvies and and joined Q under the duvet. "I'll make sure nothin fhaooens tonight," James murmured as he leaned back against the headboard.

"I'm not so drunk I can't control myself," Aiden chucked and curled up against his side. "Mmm, you're a bloody heater. Its wonderful."

James wrapped his arm around Aiden and held him close. "Get some sleep."

"Goodnight, James," Aiden smiled. "Wake me if you need anything."

"Shhhhh." James pressed a gentle kiss to Aiden's forehead and settled back against the headboard. He tucked the duvet around Aiden to keep him warm and watched the man's face as he fell asleep.

Aiden stumbled to the toilet at some point, and back to the warm, waiting arms in his bed. He sighed happily and settled against James with a smile.

"Should've gone before you went to sleep," James murmured as he pulled Aiden close.

"Didn't have to," Aiden mumbled. "Had to now," He picked up James's hand and wove their fingers together. "What do you fancy for breakfast?"

 _You_ , James thought. "I can make it. Go back to sleep."

"Alright, I won't argue you there," Aiden whispered sleepily. "Kiss me again?"

James leaned down and kissed Aiden. It was sleepy and soft, gentle and reassuring.

"Kiss me awake like that," he murmured sleepily.

"All right. Sleep now."

Aiden drifted back to sleep, curled against James.


End file.
